


A Private Understanding

by Arwriter



Series: Learned Behavior [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Pancakes, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Gaslighting, Recovery is a slow process, Roman is trying his best, Self-Esteem Issues, Sympathetic Dark Sides (Sanders Sides)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:34:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27694919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arwriter/pseuds/Arwriter
Summary: Virgil knows that despite his best efforts, it's only a matter of time until things go back to how they were. He doesn't understand how it could work out any other way.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Series: Learned Behavior [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918165
Comments: 23
Kudos: 307





	A Private Understanding

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place before "Getting There" just a few days after the events of part 1

Virgil took a breath, hesitating in the kitchen’s entrance, the world outside the mindscape’s windows still dark and quiet. The sun wouldn’t rise for another twenty minutes or so, and that still gave him over an hour before anyone woke up. 

This was...a terrible idea. 

What if he was breaking some sort of unspoken rule? What if the kitchen was off limits until everyone was awake and he just hadn’t realized? What if he made a loud sound and woke everyone up? What if he made a mess? 

What if he managed to ruin everything so horribly the others decided it was one mistake too many and went back on any promises of safety they’d made? 

Virgil knew, somewhere beneath the layers upon layers of rising panic, that he was being stupid. 

He was trying to do something good, for once. They wouldn’t...they wouldn’t hurt him over that. Not even if he messed it up. 

It had been almost a week since Virgil had explained how things were, almost a week since the light sides learned that hitting Virgil was even an  _ option.  _

Almost a week of him making countless mistakes, annoying everyone around him, and probably being overbearing and detrimental to Thomas, and still none of them had hurt him. Not even once. 

Virgil of course, wouldn’t blame them if they did. He wasn’t entirely sure how they planned on putting up with him without the use of punishment. The Others wouldn’t have hurt him so often if it wasn’t helpful. 

But the light sides...so far they hadn’t even seemed _tempted._ They’d all been so nice to him, and never once had they tried to cancel that out to remind him of his place, of how much power they had over him. 

Virgil may be a part of their family now, they may be friends, but he was still Anxiety. They couldn’t just...pretend he wasn’t. 

But then again, Virgil was starting to realize that they  _ weren’t  _ pretending. 

They didn’t treat Virgil like something he wasn’t. They didn’t push him past his limits, they listened to his concerns and fears, they were patient and gentle when his panic got the best of him and clouded his judgment. 

And over and over again, all three of them would tell him that what he went through wasn’t ok. That he hadn’t deserved the hurt and the fear. That no one- not even Anxiety- should ever be punished like that. 

It was everything he wanted, and yet…

He wouldn’t have been hurt for so long if he didn’t deserve it. That didn’t make any sense. So...so maybe they wouldn’t hurt him. They were too kind to lift a hand against him, even something as small as a simple slap. 

But eventually, they’d regret their decision. Nobody wanted him around, especially if they didn’t have a way to take out their frustration. 

And he’d given them a dangerous amount of leverage to use against him. 

He trusted them. He cared about them more than he knew how to say. He’d dropped the tough-guy act in hopes of being accepted, and they’d welcomed him, let him show them just how  _ scared  _ he was. 

Virgil didn’t want to be punished. He didn’t want to be hurt. He’d do anything to keep it from happening again. 

Nothing was more terrifying than the thought of going back, and they knew that. 

He didn’t... _ actually  _ think they would threaten to send him back. Not really. Not with the risk of his sudden absence affecting Thomas. And...not when there was a slight chance that they might actually like him. They’d certainly seemed pretty upset to learn what the others had been doing to him. 

But it was still a thought in the back of his mind. The light sides wouldn’t hurt him, but if it came down to it, they could just hand him right over to the people who would. 

So obviously, he just had to make sure that didn’t happen. He could do that- and this was a start. 

He’d seen Patton make breakfast countless times, enough that he thought even  _ he  _ had a chance at not fucking up a few pancakes. 

Still, it was a welcome surprise when he didn’t make a horrible mess or end up burning the kitchen down, a plate full of (hopefully) acceptable pancakes on the table by the time sunlight began filtering in through the window. 

He knew they wouldn’t be nearly as good as the ones Patton made, and really there was no way to tell if they would be edible at  _ all,  _ but Patton seemed exhausted lately, and cooking breakfast was the least Virgil could do. 

He rarely cooked, it stressed him out too much with the others looming over his shoulder- there was always too great a risk of spilling something, or being too loud, or dropping a dish or burning the food and making the room smell like smoke…

He’d been punished accordingly for all of that, but this time he’d actually managed to do...not a horrible job. As much as he hated what happened when he messed up, they did keep him cautious of any mistakes.

He probably would have fucked the whole thing up if their words weren’t constantly ringing in his head. Reminders to be extra careful-  _ you know what happens when you drop something-  _ or to double check the measurements-  _ if you fuck up something this simple, I swear to god we’ll-- _

“Virgil?” 

Virgil jumped at the voice suddenly behind him, silently relieved he wasn’t carrying anything he could have broken, spinning around to see a clearly only half-awake Logan in the doorway, peering curiously into the kitchen. 

Patton was coming down the stairs behind him, smiling curiously when he saw the two sides already awake, rubbing his tired eyes behind his glasses. 

“Morning kiddos,” he greeted, sending a lopsided smile Virgil’s way. “What’cha got there, Virgil?”

Somehow the way he said it, genuine curiosity in his question rather than a threatening demand, didn’t send anxiety and dread shooting down Virgil’s spine. It was a welcome change. 

“I, uh, I made breakfast. Pancakes. For you guys, so uh...here you go.” 

He glanced at the plate of pancakes he’d set down, suddenly stupidly nervous. He’d kind of planned on being out of the room by the time they came down to eat, wanting to be out of the way if they decided they were angry with him. 

But Logan’s eyebrow raise didn’t seem annoyed in the slightest, and Patton broke out into a wide grin. 

“Aw, kiddo! That’s so sweet, you didn’t have to do that!” 

Virgil shrugged, forcing himself to relax. They weren’t upset or annoyed- he was ok. “I know, I just...figured you could use the break, you know? Sorry if they’re bad, I don’t really know...I just learned watching you, so--” 

“They look satisfactory,” Logan said, squeezing Virgil’s shoulder as he passed. “This was very thoughtful of you to do.” 

Patton offered him a quick hug, followed by compliments Virgil knew he probably didn’t deserve for mediocre pancakes, quickly making his way over to the table to begin serving. 

“I smell pancakes!” Roman announced, still on the stairs, his voice easily carrying through the quiet of the mindscape. 

The Prince bounded into the room, somehow already wide eyed and glowing, and Virgil wondered how any of them managed to have so much energy so early, while he usually struggled just to get out of bed in the mornings. 

Patton beamed, winking at Virgil as the anxious side took his seat at the table, beyond grateful that he didn’t have to risk handling any more glass plates while all the attention was on him. 

Patton began serving everyone plates as they all sat in their usual spots at the dining room table, filling the room with non-stop praises such as  _ “These pancakes look so good, kiddo!”  _ or  _ “I had no idea you knew how to cook! We should make breakfast together sometime!”  _

Virgil just shrugged and smiled, relieved it wasn’t obvious how worried he’d been that they’d all be mad he’d had the audacity to cook breakfast instead of Patton. 

Roman laughed, squeezing Virgil’s shoulder as he sat down and drenched his pancakes in syrup. “I’m just surprised he didn’t end up setting the oven on fire!” 

“Oh  _ please,”  _ he scoffed, forcefully pushing down the panicked excuses and apologies that fought their way to the surface at the accusation. Roman wasn’t angry; he knew what the Prince looked like when he was mad. “Have a  _ little  _ faith in me, Princey.” 

Roman laughed again, and Virgil’s chest no longer felt quite so tight as he allowed himself to smile, glancing at the other’s relaxed expressions. 

The rest of breakfast was exactly what Virgil had learned to expect, jokes and smiles and bickering without malice. The familiar comfort instantly set him at ease, all worries of future punishment fading to the back of his mind. 

“This really was sweet of you, kiddo,” Patton said when the food was gone. “I guess it’s a good thing I overslept a bit, huh?” 

Virgil knew none of them had been sleeping well lately, all of them stressed out and scared since the day Logan had found Virgil in his room. They were losing sleep because of  _ him.  _

And there it was again, the aimless confusion that so forcefully overpowered any fear. He couldn’t comprehend why they weren’t upset with him, why they were always so  _ nice.  _

Virgil just shrugged, averting his gaze. “I mean, it’s the least I can do, right? After everything you guys have done I just...wanted to say thank you.” 

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. 

He might have missed it if he wasn’t so hyper-focused on changes in body language, but he saw Roman stiffen in his seat, and he just barely caught a glimpse of the nervous glance Logan and Patton sent each other. 

The tension was gone in an instant, quickly covered up by fond looks and bright smiles, but Virgil was now frantically scrambling to figure out what he’d missed. 

“I...sorry, I just--” 

“Don’t be sorry!” Roman said suddenly, and Virgil jumped at the frantic tone. “You didn’t do anything!” 

Prince looked to Logan, who raised an eyebrow while Patton looked down at his lap, fumbling with his napkin. Virgil suddenly felt like a child about to be told their dog ran away. 

“Of course not,” Logan said. “Apologies, Virgil. No one meant to imply that you had. We only--” 

“We don’t need you to  _ thank  _ us,” Patton jumped in. “You don’t owe us a thing, kiddo. We’re just glad you’re here with us now.” 

Virgil shook his head, bewildered. “No, you...you guys are the ones giving me a chance and I...I know that’s not easy. And I really... _ really  _ appreciate everything you’re doing.” 

And maybe it wasn’t a lot to them, the little acts of kindness and patient smiles nothing but second nature to the light sides, but...but it meant  _ everything _ to him. No one had offered him anything this good before. 

But he didn’t want to push his luck by arguing, painfully aware of how easily he could send someone over the edge, so he stood up from his chair and began gathering up everyone’s plates. 

_ Don’t drop it, don’t drop it, he couldn’t handle them getting angry if he broke anything-- _

“Oh, I can clean up kiddo!” 

Virgil shook his head, carefully setting the plates down on the counter, letting himself breathe when he made it across the kitchen without anything breaking. 

“I made the mess, Pat,” he said, risking a glance back at the table to make sure no one was getting frustrated. “I got it.” 

“But you--” Logan put a hand on the moral side’s shoulder, and Patton quickly fell silent. 

“If it puts your mind at ease,” the logical side said, sending a meaningful glance towards the other two. “Then we will not stop you. Besides, Patton could use the morning off. Just...please be careful not to overwork yourself, Virgil.” 

Virgil sighed, relieved, briefly wondering once again if Logan had the secret ability to read minds. He always seemed to know what everyone needed, as alienated from emotions as he claimed to be. 

“I won’t,” Virgil promised, flashing what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I can handle it.” 

Virgil should have known he wouldn’t be able to keep a promise like that. God he was...he was so fucking useless. He was exhausted and terrified of losing the only people who had ever been kind to him in his life, but he’d really thought he would be able to handle it. 

Trembling on the kitchen floor, surrounded by cleaning supplies at two in the morning was the exact opposite of  _ handling it.  _

He hadn’t even planned on doing anything! He’d actually forced himself to go to bed at a regular hour, determined to create a somewhat stable sleep schedule. 

But obviously the universe had to remind him how much it hated him, leaving him to lay wide awake, staring at his ceiling for hours with a racing mind until he begrudgingly got up to get a drink of water. 

He should have known better with the way his vision swam with exhaustion, his hands shaking as he wrapped them around the glass, but of course he was stupid enough to try anyway, heart sinking when some of the water ended up sloshing over the edge and onto the tiled floor. 

He hadn’t panicked. He was alone in the dark, the kitchen empty and quiet, everyone else in the mindscape sound asleep. There was no reason to panic. 

But his shaking had only gotten worse as he’d set the glass in the sink, frantically glancing over his shoulder into the hallway to make sure it stayed empty. He grabbed a towel, lowered himself to his knees and began soaking up the water. 

He wasn’t really sure what had happened after that. He’d planned on cleaning up his mess, burying the damp towel at the bottom of the dirty laundry basket so no one would ever know, and then head back to bed to try and get at least a couple hours of sleep. 

But then...he’d found himself stuck where he was, staring at the kitchen floor, letting dark, nagging thoughts force their way to the front of his mind. 

_ Had he been doing enough? Did they think he was lazy? Was he still worth the kindness? What if they had already made plans to kick him out?  _

They weren’t going to hurt him. They weren’t going to hurt him or send him back to the people who would. 

But they could. God, they so  _ easily  _ could and Virgil wouldn’t even fight it. Because he  _ was  _ lazy, and he  _ wasn’t  _ worth the kindness and he  _ deserved _ to be sent back. 

But he could still prove otherwise. He could still be better. 

And that was how he ended up pulling cleaning supplies out from under the sink, frantically scrubbing a floor that really didn’t need to be cleaned in the first place, distantly wondering why he couldn’t seem to stop. 

They weren’t upset with him. He’d been pulling his weight, already working himself to the bone to keep Thomas safe. Nobody had even hinted at being annoyed with him or going back on their word to let him live without punishment. 

So... _ why?  _ Why couldn’t he get the Other’s voices out of his head? Why couldn’t he just forget about how things had been and move on? 

Why couldn’t he just stop being so  _ scared?  _

He wasn’t sure when he stopped scrubbing, his exhausted mind instead leaving him sitting on the damp floor, staring blankly at his hands, but it took him a moment to register the movement by the doorway. 

“Virgil?” 

Virgil jumped, dropping the wet cloth in his hand, scrambling back until he was pressed up against the bottom of the kitchen counter. The light from the living room had been turned on, the gentle glow flooding into the kitchen, illuminating the figure standing a few feet away. 

Roman blinked, looking from Virgil, to the cleaning supplies littering the floor, and then back to Virgil again. “What...in the world are you doing?” 

He didn’t sound angry, confused more than anything, but Virgil still flinched at the question. 

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

“You didn’t, I was already awake.” Roman crouched down to Virgil’s level, still keeping a safe distance between them. “What’s wrong?” 

Virgil shook his head, suddenly painfully aware it just looked like he’d made the kitchen cluttered and wet. “Nothing. Sorry, you- you can go back to bed. It’s fine.” 

“You’re scrubbing the floor at three in the morning,” Roman said, frowning when Virgil flinched again. “I may not be Patton or Logan, but I can tell when something’s up, Gloomy Gus.” 

Virgil wondered how he could say that, how Roman could downplay his own abilities compared to the others when the Prince had been the first one to promise him safety, the first one to hold the anxious side in his arms. 

But Virgil didn’t have the energy to point any of that out right now, not when he couldn’t stop trembling and he was struggling to convince himself Roman wasn’t about to strike him. 

“I...I was just cleaning,” he said. “I got carried away, I’m sorry I was- I was gonna put everything away as soon as I was done.” 

Roman didn’t seem any less confused at the explanation, but his tone was still gentle when he spoke. “Did you spill something?” 

But despite it, Virgil still felt like he’d been punched, ice cold dread coiling around his gut as he shrank back, the counter against his back suddenly horribly confining. 

“I’m sorry, it- I was just getting some water and I...I didn’t mean to, I know I should’ve been more careful but I--” 

“Hey, hey it’s ok.” Roman offered a small smile, holding out his hands, all dramatics and jokes set aside. “I’m not upset, no one’s mad at you. And the kitchen looks fine, Virge, so how about I put all this stuff away and we can--” 

“No!” 

He hadn’t meant to raise his voice (it was still pathetically small, but Roman was shocked into silence nonetheless), but the panic only worsened at the offer. 

He couldn’t let the Prince clean up a mess Virgil had made all on his own. It didn’t matter how well meaning he was, it could too easily be used against him in the future, an unbeatable weapon of guilt and shame. 

“N-no, I got it. I made the mess, you...you don’t have to--” 

“How about we clean it up together, then? It’s ok to ask for help sometimes, and I’m up anyway.” 

He was clearly trying  _ so hard,  _ and if Virgil wasn’t so irrationally terrified he might have thought it was sweet. But he was exhausted, the lack of sleep and incoming panic leaving him pretty much useless, and he realized he might be risking making a bigger mess by trying to put everything away himself. 

So he nodded and let Roman help him, the two sides carefully putting the cleaning supplies back where they belong and wiping down the residual dampness on the floor. 

Roman never once stood up, doing everything from where he kneeled on the floor, and Virgil was fairly certain it was an attempt to make Virgil feel more at ease, careful not to tower over him. 

Virgil appreciated it more than he probably should. 

“There we go,” Roman announced when they were done. “See? Easy fix. No need to stress out.” 

Virgil nodded, still in a pathetic little ball on the floor, wrapping his hoodie around himself in a vain attempt to hide the way he was still shaking.

He expected Roman to leave now, to demand they both head to bed before they lost anymore sleep, but the Prince only scooted forward, sitting cross legged, his knees just a couple inches from Virgil’s. 

“Alright, Hot Topic,” Roman said. “Are you gonna tell me what’s up now? Or are we gonna have to sit here all night?” 

His easy smile was probably the only reason Virgil didn’t immediately start panicking again, but he quickly averted his gaze, struggling to piece through his racing thoughts enough to form a coherent sentence. 

And really, how was he supposed to explain it? How was he supposed to make them see that he just didn’t…

“I don’t  _ understand.”  _

Roman didn’t react, just leaned forward slightly. “What don’t you understand, Virge?” 

“You’re not...you’re not angry. I made a mess and kept you awake and you’re not upset. At all. I just- I’m sorry, I just don’t...get it.” 

Even if Roman wasn’t  _ angry,  _ he shouldn’t be this kind to Anxiety. Virgil didn’t understand why he was forcing himself to be. 

“No one’s going to be upset with you,” Roman said softly. “You’re exhausted. We can tell you haven’t been sleeping--” 

“No one’s been sleeping.” 

“But _you’re_ doing it on purpose,” Roman pointed out, and Virgil winced. “You’ve been overworking yourself all week. You cooked us breakfast- I mean look at you, Virgil you’re scrubbing the _floor_ in the middle of the night!” 

Virgil hunched his shoulders instinctively. “I’m sorry.” 

“What? No, no I’m-” he paused, running a hand over his face. “I’m not angry, I promise. I’m  _ worried.  _ Ever since you told us what happened to you, you’ve been acting like...like…” 

He paused again, and Virgil watched as realization slowly hit, his brown eyes widening slightly. When Roman looked back at him, his expression was far too pained for his liking. “Virgil, you don’t  _ owe _ us anything. You don’t have to convince us you’re worthy.” 

“Yes, I  _ do.”  _ God, why was all of this so  _ confusing?  _ “You guys keep saying I don’t, but I know how hard it is to treat me like this, and I--” 

“To treat you like what?” Roman demanded, growing progressively less gentle. “Like- like an equal? Like someone who  _ doesn’t  _ deserve to get beaten down for every little mistake?” 

Virgil didn’t know why Roman sounded so worked up, because they seemed to be on the same page. “Yeah? I mean I just...I know it’s a lot of work, and I need to do something to make it up to you. To make it...you know. Worth the effort.” 

That was...the less selfish version of it, anyway. He owed them, he wanted to make their lives as easy as possible, but he was also willing to do anything if it meant getting to stay. 

But Roman didn’t need to know that. Not when it looked like he was already struggling not to be angry. 

“What...what did they _say_ to you? How could you...how could you ever believe you _deserve_ this? Virgil...Virgil, I’m so _sorry.”_

And just like that, Roman didn’t look angry anymore. Upset, definitely, but there were tears pooling in his eyes, the distress on his face worse than any physical blow. 

“I’m sorry,” Virgil said for what felt like the hundredth time that night. And just like each time before, Roman quickly shook his head. “I-I’m trying to understand but I can’t--” 

“Please don’t be sorry.” Roman’s voice was barely a whisper, but it silenced Virgil immediately. “Don’t...don’t be sorry for what they did to you, alright? It wasn’t your fault.” 

That was debatable, considering everything he’d gone through had happened because  _ he  _ messed something up. But something told him Roman wouldn’t appreciate hearing that right now. 

“It’s not,” the Prince said again, like he knew what Virgil was thinking anyway. Roman moved to rub the back of his neck, an old nervous habit, taking a moment before continuing. “Do...do you think I’m going to hit you?” 

And Virgil wanted to immediately say no, to rush to assure the Prince that he knew Roman would never, that he hadn’t done anything to make Virgil think he would go back on his promise. 

But he couldn’t say that yet. Not truthfully, anyway. But...but looking at Roman now, lowered to the floor to Virgil’s level, eyes flooding with unshed tears...Virgil couldn’t honestly say he expected violence either, deserved or not. 

“I...I don’t think you’re going to,” he said slowly. “I mean, I- I  _ know  _ you won’t. I know that. It’s just...I don’t know. It’s hard to remember sometimes. But- but you promised you wouldn’t. So, I- I trust you.” 

Roman nodded, but didn’t look any less distraught. “Do you think I should?” 

It was asked softly, hesitantly, like Roman was afraid of an answer he already knew. And Virgil wondered if he should be ashamed of how quickly he found himself nodding. 

“God, Virge…” he trailed off, running a hand through his hair.  _ “Why?  _ I told you I wasn’t mad.” 

“I know, but I...I spilled, and left all the cleaning supplies out. Everything was a mess and I kept you from going back to bed, and I kept getting confused when you were explaining things and--” 

“I should hit you for being  _ confused?”  _ Virgil flinched, and Roman’s face fell. “I’m...so sorry. I don’t know what they did to make you think that’s the only option for you.” 

Virgil shrugged, wishing he could understand why Roman found this so impossible to comprehend. He thought Roman might be thinking the same thing. “It’s...it’s just easier for everyone. You’ll...figure that out eventually.” 

And really, that was the truth wasn’t it? They were kind, they were good, and they were  _ trying.  _ They meant it when they said they wouldn’t hurt him. They didn’t want to, because they didn’t know him yet. 

Their patience would run out, sooner or later. The Others had been around him for years, they knew better than anyone. No one could be expected to be around Anxiety without getting fed up, and Virgil couldn’t be of use without the pain. 

That was how it was, how it needed to be, and Virgil...Virgil could handle that. He hated it, but he wouldn't duck out again. He wouldn’t do that to Thomas. 

And he still loved the light sides. He didn’t think he could ever  _ stop  _ loving them. It wasn’t their fault that he was like this. And besides, no one had bothered to try this hard with him before. It had still been the best few weeks of his life and if he was lucky, it might last a couple more. 

Roman shook his head, and Virgil’s stomach dropped when he saw the Prince quickly wipe away a stray tear. He looked...heartbroken. And Virgil wanted so desperately to understand why. 

“I don’t go back on my promises,” he said softly. “Nobody will ever lay a hand on you.  _ Nobody  _ will hurt you again. You are never,  _ ever  _ going back. We love you, Virgil, and treating you like we do isn’t a burden. It isn’t something you ever need to thank us for.”

Roman reached forward slowly, his watery eyes never leaving Virgil’s as he moved, and Virgil forced himself not to flinch back. 

When the Prince touched his face, it was soft and delicate, his hand moving to frame his cheek like something fragile he was afraid to break. He held him gently, and Virgil leaned into the touch. 

“You could make a thousand mistakes,” Roman said. “And nothing bad would happen to you, because you don’t deserve to be hurt. You never did, and you never will. Nothing you could do would warrant that kind of treatment.” 

Virgil blinked, his vision going dangerously blurry in the face of Roman’s watering eyes and kind, horribly confusing words. It made his head spin. 

“I don’t…” he paused, clenching his jaw and swallowing against the lump in his throat. “I’m  _ sorry.  _ I don’t- I don’t get it. Roman I- I can’t...I don’t  _ understand.”  _

His voice cracked on the last word, broken and small, and his eyes fell away from the Prince’s gaze. 

“I know,” Roman said, his thumb lightly tracing Virgil’s cheekbone. “But you will. I promise, one day you will.” 

Virgil closed his eyes, letting the tears spill over. His head fell forward, resting against Roman’s shoulder, and he let himself choose to believe in the Prince’s hope, just for a moment. 


End file.
